


Seasalt Serenity

by Cirrocumulus (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Byleth is a Sellsword/Mercenary, Claude is more than just a sailor, Dimitri is a Pirate King, Edelgard is the beast of scary legends, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Pick your Ending!, Slow Burn, Valentine's Exchange Oneshot turned Multi Chapter Fic, Yuri is a gambler, additional side characters - Freeform, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cirrocumulus
Summary: On the seas of Fódlan, there is plenty treasure to be found for friend and foe alike.‘tis is an ocean of emperors who became the legends of shanties, princes turned into pirate kings, sailors who are more than they present themselves as and gamblers looking to win against sea serpents.Choose your ship, and let it sail.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Yuri, Yuri Leclerc/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Seasalt Serenity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tishtish4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tishtish4/gifts).



> In this Fanfiction, the plot will play out normally, and at the end, you get to choose one of four endings!  
> The ships possible are:  
> Dimitri x Byleth  
> Claude x Byleth  
> Edelgard x Byleth  
> Yuri x Byleth.
> 
> For Tish! You were my Valentine's Exchange partner! I hope you enjoy it, and all the chapters yet to come! ♡

_They say the sea slays sailors, here in Fódlan._

_Because the water writes wet graves for those naive enough to think that sea serpents do not exist._

_And those foolish enough to think themselves mightier than beasts yet fear the legends of the eternal emperor._

Right now, however, it is only a shanty that leaves the maws of merry-goers, their choice of drink warm ale instead of blood, and yet some stain their lips with wine, making their collar’s stained with the red colour.

Supposedly, the great Sothis' brings around weather wonderful enough to conquer the waves, if one prays to her god-touched form. The song that sets the tavern alight with the life of the night certainly claims her to be a powerful being, one worthy enough of surpassing even the beauty of mermaids. What instruments have found their way here ring out in joy, off-key but on-going, a shambled orchestra build from violins and violence.

Yet, the only prayer on lips cracked from the sea salt in the air comes monotone and marred.

“Refill, please.”

She fishes out a copper coin from her purse, dries her sticky fingers on half-ripped tights, and lets the money fall on top of the counter, the wood there splintered and soaked with alcohol. A man behind the bar, burly but bright, gives a mock salute and lets liquid gold run into the glass from a keg.

“One beer comin' right up. You've tried the pig meat yet, Ashen Demon?”

He laughs heartily, gesturing to strips of jerky to his right, no question that they must have come from a fat-bellied creature. It takes him far less than it would a regular man to wolf one down, and the crunch of his teeth has her shake her head in soft disdain.

“Not yet, Raphael. Should I?”

In turn he hands one over, ‘on the house', as he calls it. She feels the crusty texture, takes a whiff of the large strip and mouths a silent ‘Why?’ just as her teeth find contact with the smoked present. It is far from bad, if overly salty, but then even the smoke-filled tavern reeks like the sea.

“For being my favourite regular”, he snorts, but it is heartfelt. “And for roughing up those bandits, ya know.”

The Ashen Demon simply flashes the slightest hint of a smile, as glum as it is genuine, and brings up her beer to toast in silence. As her glass clinks together with his own – though filled with juice rather than liquor – the muddy coloured golden glory sloshes from side to side, the white foamy top spilling over akin to a wave hitting shore.

“To a full belly!” Raphael laughs once more, a gleeful snicker that echoes even in the loudness of the night.

She huffs, a low born sigh that travels downward as she takes a gulp of her drink. “To a quiet evening in Derdriu.”

But of course, the night holds little calm, as it is as untameable as the ocean itself. Somewhere, bar brawls still carry on, but so does the song, and no one interferes as long as all furniture remains intact.

The Ashen Demon lets her gaze cross over the many tables, all of them hosting patrons of every walk of life, save for nobility. A gambler’s play catches her attention the most, the yellowed cards on the table not nearly the rich colour of her beverage.

She eyes the people involved, a redheaded sell-sword whom she knows well battling with wits and honourable tactics, even as her opponent sees hidden cards strapped to his pant leg. He carries an air of authority with him, pale hair purple in the tavern lights, and although she cannot see his expression, she is sure it must be a mixture of cockiness and coquettish pride.

Raphael shakes his head behind her, reaches for one of the many empty glasses to clean it, even though the rag that he uses must carry all sorts of spilled contents in it already, given its colourful appearance. His bearlike hands seem ill fitted for such a task, but he works diligently.

“Leonie will lose again at this rate – and I’m not lookin’ forward to adding her stuff to her tab again.”

With his words the powerful grip on the glass increases, and soon enough a soft crack begins to form. Noticing the action, he sets the object down instead and leans over the counter.

“I know you just paid her, too. So, uhhh, can you lend her a hand? I’ll give you more jerky!”

Although the stare that she sends him in return is a humourless one she yet rises from her seat, grabs her beer and acknowledges her friend’s request.

“Just _how_ could I deny such a generous offer? Two more beers on the house, and I’m in.”

“…for you, I’ll make it three.”

**~*~**

Finding her way over to the gambling ring currently in full swing turns out much harder than formerly anticipated. With people drunkenly dancing, making out with more than mouths or brutally brawling it is quite the feat to achieve. A small but dedicated crowd has formed around the oaken wood, yet she manages to see the hint of lavender between the mass, the leg which belongs to the man now suspiciously missing the added cheating cards.

Leonie waves with the delight only an inebriated person could possess. “Come ‘ere, Byleth!”

It is a well-trained man with sharp, angular features who first takes note of her, and as his eyes bore deep into her, she feels how his gaze lacks anger, as it is much more inquisitive in nature. Still, he opts out of giving her a way around him and towards her fellow mercenary, choosing instead to tap the shoulder of the man holding all the weight of the game in his hands.

“Hey, the gal here seems to know her. What’cha think, Yuri?”

“Yes?”

For the first time Leonie’s opponent turns around in such a way that Byleth is clearly able to see his face, one that holds much more feminity in it than his voice would suggest. It is an odd mix that makes him stand out more than his appearance alone ever could.

“Oh? I think a proper match would be lovely, don’t you Balthus?”

He voices his thoughts in an innocent manner, though the way with which he carries himself tells another story entirely. In fact, he takes note of the way in which her garments hug her form as though she is less woman and more demon in nature.

And still she feels as though taking in her curves is part for the course, especially as Balthus follows his gaze in kind. It may be unjust, but it is also tactical, and so she fixes her own stare at the forms of the two men.

“As long as you play fair, I’m in.”

It is Balthus who chuckles at this retort, in a much more subdued way than Raphael would, and yet it seems more mocking. As though she lacks the intellect to grasp the concept of cheating.

“Ah, but we play for _coin._ All’s fair in a game, pal.”

Yuri wags a finger at that.

“Say, if you take note of any… _unsavoury acts_ of mine, you may well call them out. How’s that?”

The words have no right to be uttered with such a lilt to them, sugary and sweet and biting like bile. She nods, then, if only to give Leonie a fighting chance in eventually paying off her debt at the tavern. Besides, she was promised free liquor for handling this confidently, and she’s nothing less than a reliable sell-sword coated in ashen ways.

Those wolfs may well be looking for a quick meal, but she will not hand it to them.

“Sounds good to me.”

“ _Perfect_.”

Balthus makes room for her now, and what little other patrons are in her way make haste to get out of her sight, if only for the glare that she wears akin to a blanket for comfort. Sitting down besides Leonie gives her a clear view of her sparring partner of the gambling kind, and he flashes what could be described as a smile, if it had any tact to it.

“It’s easy. Everyone takes ten cards, highest number played against another wins. Whoever wins most rounds gets the prize.”

The prize is a moderately sized arrangement of copper and silver coins, some of them shinier than others.

The task seems simple enough, though to her it feels almost too innocent of a game altogether. It holds no weight to it, could be played by any street urchin without trouble. The Ashen Demon pats her partner on the shoulder, and Leonie looks up drowsily.

“Yeah?”

Byleth hums softly. “…Yuri, was it? Let’s have Balthus and Leonie play, too. Makes things more interesting.”

His eyes narrow, and yet his partner in crime – for it is obvious what they are trying to pull off – takes a seat beside him. Yuri drums on the table, nails much more pristine than a simple gambler would care for.

“What good taste. I am _all_ for having things be interesting, _Ashen Demon_.”

It should be simple and hold no weight to it, considering her status in the city of Derdriu, and yet he pronounces her name with pressure, while Balthus grins and shrugs non-committedly.

“’course we know who you are, pal. And some of your backstory. Helps to keep away from you when it’s needed, you know?”

“What would it be needed for”, she wonders aloud, while making to grab her first card.

Her opponents follow in kind, and Yuri tuts in a disinterested fashion. “Oh, you know. Things.”

Leonie fumbles for her card while scanning the tavern, eyes the slightest hint of unfocused, but the rest of her burns with the fire for a fairer fight.

“Don’t ya worry, Byleth. We’ll crush them, right?”

“Right on.”

**~*~**

The rest of the cards, still as yellow as she perceived from afar, are dealt out quickly. Soon enough she is holding all that she needs and counts her blessings and curses. While the salty air has eaten away at some of the finer paint on the paper it yet shines clear enough to let her be certain that she has no number higher than an eight, and only one King to her name.

Leonie’s hand, at least, seems marginally better, with one Ace and two tens respectively. Whatever Balthus and Yuri carry in their hands – one rough, the other slender – will not matter forever, so she focuses on what little movements the both try to dare to do.

For now, however, they are simply concentrating on putting their first moves down, with Yuri being the first to do so.

Byleth notes the careful way in which he carries, almost cradles the card, but there is a shine in her eye that lets her know the worth of the card cannot be determined by such an action. He grins, and she huffs in return, putting her own pick, a meagre five, down with force.

“My, the card is not trying to bite you, you know. But maybe I will, we shall see.”

He winks, and Balthus laughs in retort, while Leonie makes the most disgusted look the Ashen Demon has seen on her all night. Eventually, both put down their respective cards as well.

In turn she chugs back some of the remaining beer in her glass, the taste wetting her almost eager tongue. She isn’t known to speak quite this much, and it makes her throat hurt, so the liquor is a welcome distraction.

“Turn your cards, now.”

Once spoken, everyone does – and pitted against her own five, is another, more yellowed one, belonging to Yuri. Balthus has set down a seven, making Leonie and her eight come out on top.

The far from sober woman heaves a joyful shout, and Raphael shows them a big grin in kind from his place behind the bar, the glass that he is currently filling with booze overflowing from the lack of attention given to his task.

Yuri grins in Byleth’s direction, a bit self-satisfactory and a lot more sensual than would be needed. “Why, it seems we think alike, don’t we? I’m sure your luck won’t hold for long, however.”

With that, the next card is placed down by him, just as careful as his first one. Byleth peeks into Leonies cards instead of giving the hand action much thought, steering her attention to her lowest card, a two.

“Place this one”, she says while tapping the paper with one of her fingers.

Leonie simply nods and sets it down. Byleth meanwhile makes to shuffle her deck, gaze focused on Balthus who eyes her attentively, almost as though through some nefarious plan he can look into her cards directly.

There is no mirror behind her, but still, the possibility seems high enough to try to sabotage whatever they are banking on. So, instead of looking into her deck, she simply sets it neatly in front of her, hand drawing the top card and setting it down just as gently as Yuri did before her.

Balthus follows, but while his facial expression showcases slight confusion, he still holds a grin that seems to self-assured to be born from pride alone.

As the cards turn, Byleth begins to understand why.

While she has drawn her highest card possible, the King that should almost guarantee her victory, he has been killed regardless, head clean chopped off like a noble put before a guillotine.

Because while Balthus’ holds up a one, Yuri presents an ace.

“We are one for one, Ashen Demon.”

**~*~**

The rest of the rounds go pathetically for Leonie and Byleth, despite their best attempts to best the two gamblers. It is even more shocking given how neither of their opponents have made any attempt to cheat by procuring non-disclosed cards.

Byleth holds her last card close in her hands, knowing full well that Yuri will trump her no matter what.

Every single one in the game has been seen, even counting the cards not in play, and sitting between her fingers in front of her is nothing more than a two, the very same card number that Leonie still calls her own.

Not only that, they have won four rounds out of nine in total, while Byleth and Leonie only secured four victories as well, with one round ending in an ace-on-ace stalemate.

“Shhh, his collar.”

Air, not born from winds but a living, breathing being, makes the hairs of her neck stand up in protest.

The breath that tickles her ear smells like pine trees of hidden lands, and she whirls around to meet the emerald gaze of a man who carries himself with the smug regency of someone worth much more than a simple sailor, and yet his clothes indicate little value beside his profession.

Curly locks and a scurffy beard make to brush against her cheek, and he comes closer yet, chest pressing against her back as he lounges himself forward to look into her remaining card.

He carries a current with him that could rival a storm, and yet all that he does is speak in whispers.

“That won’t do, you’ll need to expose him.”

Yuri clicks his tongue. “Well, that is just way too obvious for a cheating tactic, you should know.”

The stranger lifts his hands in mock-surrender, perfectly aligned teeth positioned in a dangerous grin that is all but genuine. “Me? I’m just a curious onlooker with a penchant for looking at the finer details in life.”

Leonie has already laid her head on the table, giving off a non-committal grunt but little else. “Is he now?”

Balthus snickers, fingers bending his card ever so slightly as he fixes his gaze on the man opposite him. “A curious onlooker, sure. Say, your name would not be _Claude_ by any chance?”

“Why yes.” He nods almost comically fast, so sure of himself that it comes off as nothing but fake. “There are plenty sailor’s around these parts called that. I happen to be one of them.”

“And your skin?” Yuri cocks his head in curiosity, gaze fixed on the tanned colour that glows almost golden in the dim tavern light. “It is quite dark, even for a sailor, wouldn’t you agree?”

Claude snickers, and it holds a bit of a sympathetic lilt to it, like he seems to understand the gambler in front of him much more than he lets on.

“Why, I simply happen to work in the light, rather than the shadows like you lot.”

Balthus does not seem to buy it, despite the cheeky explanation, and points straight towards him, eager to divulge what info he has on him, Byleth wagers.

“Do you? The common folk whispers that the heir of the prestigious Riegan household has made to try to conquer the seas for sport and-“

While he starts, Byleth feels Claude press a card into the hand not holding onto one already, the action unseen through the way he props himself up on the table. He nudges her side after, and on cue she lets the forged card sit on her lap while she makes to reach for her beer, hitting Leonie in such a way that she, as inebriated as she is, loses hold on her remaining card.

It falls to the flour with little flourish, and before she can reach down to grab it again Claude has already stepped on it with his boots, hiding it effectively. In the same instant Byleth lets her newly acquired item glide to the ground as well, and Leonie dips below the table to search for what was lost.

“Ah, there it is!”

She comes up proudly with her prize in hand, and although Byleth is sure that Yuri must have used this time to grab his own forged weapon it should not count in the long run.

“She is far from sober, isn’t she?” He tuts, a chuckle in his throat that he doesn’t quite let out.

Balthus is still arguing with Claude, who carries the conversation like a calm current, aloof enough for neither of the two to be able to accuse Byleth and Leonie of cheating.

The smirk that rests on his lips now seems the most genuine one he has shown, yet.

“I’d put the cards on the table, if I were you”, he mumbles and sure enough, all game participants follow.

Byleth starts by flicking over her own card, proudly displaying the shameful two that stares up at them all.

Balthus follows after her, procuring a four with bended edges.

Yuri is next, flipping his card and holding it up between two fingers – an ace, of course.

Leonie is last, fumbling around with the yellowed little thing on the table, but once it is turned over it, too, shows an ace.

A stalemate.

Nobody wins.

**~*~**

Afterwards, the prize is divided equally between all four parties, though Byleth is quite sure that Claude must have stolen one, if not more of the silver coins while they were busy counting their own shares.

If he did, he shows no remorse for it.

Instead, he follows her towards the bar, Leonie in tow, to claim her free beers – one for each of them. It might not be cold, but Byleth is sure she has never had one better than this.

“Say”, he asks after having taken a gulp from his own beverage, body leaning against the bar’s counter with humbly conceited pride. “I heard you were looking for a way to cross the sea of Derdriu to get to Fraldarius in Faerghus territory?”

“…and if I were?” She squints up at him, takes in his distractingly dazzling smile that does not even try to reach his eyes.

Claude laughs quietly, more of a chuckle than anything. “Then I’ll have an invitation to extend to you – provided you can pay, of course.”

He is pressing her to divulge more of her curiosity, but Byleth simply remains silent, and waits for him to explain himself. Surely a simple sailor would have no ship to call his own.

Claude does not catch the bait she has laid out, but the plan that he has in mind catches her off-guard regardless.

“What would you say if I offered to take you along? Across the far sea, and, hopefully, not into the open maw of _Blaiddyd the Pirate King_.”


End file.
